


White

by Mothrianna



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Abusive Mother, F/M, Just a Mention, Lots of blood and a dash of gore, Main relationship will probably be poly, Multi, Suicide, Vampires, Witchcraft, Witches, Wolves, to a degree, turning, watch out, will probably add more characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4053775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothrianna/pseuds/Mothrianna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The daughter finally returned home. She seemed the same as always, to those who'd known her before. And those who'd just met her assumed all was well. That she was fine. Happy and content. There was no way she was as broken as the lot of them. No way in hell she resembled her father in any way, shape or form other than appearance. She wasn't as ruthless as him. A clueless princess. His clueless, little girl. </p>
<p>They were horribly, horribly mistaken. </p>
<p>She was by no means clueless. And every move she made was careful and premeditated. Not a single one of her moves went without serious deliberation. </p>
<p>Just like her father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White

                There was a hole in her heart. Something wide and gaping that could never be filled again. Darren took a part of her with him when he left this world. And now, to all, the teen was hollowed out. A jack o lantern. Hollow, with a weak little light glowing from within. Haunting and eerie. But something oddly fascinating, for she turned her obvious pain into real, beautiful things. Things like haunting posters of lonely, melancholic scenes of landscapes and forests and animals. Or angry, violent scenes of gore- people, usually young women with a disconcerting likeness to herself, having their innards torn out by creatures of fantastical design. Always something that mirrored the only two emotions she felt. Hollow loneliness- for he was her only friend and confidant- and red hot anger, always directed towards herself.

                Because if only she’d noticed sooner.

                After two consecutive years of unfaltering funk, her mother had reached her limit. It was time to move on. She was seventeen now. She had to let go. She couldn’t sit around and mourn him forever. It wasn’t healthy.

                Xira couldn’t help but feel that it was just the annoyance of the piling bills. _Therapists_ weren’t cheap. _Medication_ wasn’t cheap.

                But despite of her mother urging her to move on, along with her therapist and family, she remained in her funk. The scars on her back and chest were growing in number along with the intense self-loathing and intense desire to decompose into the comforter.

                And yet, she felt like she knew the true reason why her mother was so prepared to let the child go. She hoped that it wasn’t so, but yet, she could feel it.

Her mother contacted her father. She “couldn’t take it anymore.” She couldn’t take the “self-destructive tendencies.” Maybe her father could help. He was the one with the closer bond, she bitterly thought. Even though she’d arranged for her only daughter to live with her, several states away from the man, he still managed to become the girl’s favorite.

                He lived in California. But that didn’t stop him from fully loving and supporting his only child in his own awkward and stoic manner. So when her mother announced that Xira needed to pack for her flight, there was a bitter sweet sigh of relief. Sweet that she’d be living with her father. The man, though awkward in communicating his affections for his little baby girl, loved her more than life itself. It was clear the lengths he was willing to go for her. So she didn’t mind the stoicism. She loved her daddy.

                But still bitter. Her mother was so willing to hand her over. As if she were a problem. A direct slap to the face. A punch in the gut. Below the belt or to the back. Her defenses were down. She was already vulnerable to begin with.

                She took after him a lot in manner for the most part. She was awkward as hell with her emotions, just as he was. She hated being so vulnerable like this. So wide open. Her innards were exposed for all to see. She was a fucking anatomical figure. And people watched her with vague interest or disgust (as so she perceived). She wanted to go back to her old self. Her smiling, smart-assed, dry-humored, self. But she’d changed. She’d changed a lot.

                “Talk to me, Xira-Jura.” Her father’s voice had a foreign tone. It sounded so strange for him to be so worried. But he was. His eyes bore through her like the piercing sunlight through a magnifying glass of some asshole of a kid, and suddenly, she felt very small and _stupid._ But she couldn’t help what she felt. She couldn’t help that she couldn’t even speak right now. That they’d been driving for twenty minutes and all she could muster to answer his questions were simple nods and quiet “no”s. The silence had endured for that long. They were almost there. Almost in the clear, safe from the possibility of a painful conversation.

                But she started to think. And thinking gave way to crying.

                She hated herself more than she could even begin to explain. Even more so when she opened her mouth, her words wavering and trembling under tears and broken by sobs. She broke down, her father’s worried eyes almost making her buckle. She sniveled and whimpered like a child, forcing her thoughts out between gasps like vomit.

                “I suck.” She faltered a bit. She couldn’t even begin to form the words that could adequately express the pure hatred that she had for herself at the moment. The anger and frustration of always (as described by her mother) the black hole. The constant negative energy that sucked the joy out of the room. People were tired of her, she figured. People didn’t want to always be around a sulky little girl. And she hated herself even more. Because she was such an idiot that she couldn’t even put in into words. She wish that she was an eloquent writer or a phlegmatic speaker. But yet, all she could say was “I really suck…” The tears ran hot, stinging her cheeks as they fell in rivulets.

                “Xira…” He wanted to stop her self-depreciating rant before it started. Because it hurt him to see the girl in so much pain. It wasn’t her fault in the slightest. He knew this for a fact. But yet, she continued to blame herself. “I’m such crap.” A shaky breath as she tried to stifle the tears. “Everyone just gets sick of me. Even Mom. But I can’t help it…” And that’s when she broke. Tears finally fell heavy, as if a bucket had been tipped. Her whole frame trembled and shook with sob after sob.

                She felt strong arms encircle her shoulders, pulling her close. He held her for what seemed like an eternity. An eternity of sad, girlish sobs and his silent understanding. He let her cry as long as she needed. How long had she gone without someone to speak to? To confide in? He wanted to apologize to her. He should’ve visited more. No, he thought. He should’ve brought her back after it’d happened. Staying in that town wasn’t healthy for her. The memories would’ve been too much, hanging stagnant in the air.

                “It is not your fault. It has never been your fault.” He told her. She buried her face into her hands as she cried. Part of her knew it. She knew that it was no one’s fault that he took his own life. Not even his, in her eyes. But still, there was anger in her poor little throat. It needed to be directed at something. Something tangible, unlike fate, who was the true culprit. Someone needed to be punished for the death of that angel.

 

 

                Her father was rich. Rich enough that she’d never really had to worry about her future, which was always an extremely daunting fact that hung over her head, always adding to the general apathy that plagued her life. She was void of motivation and any real visions about the future. Sure, she was going to college. But for what, she was uncertain about. She had a dangerous habit of living in the present and focusing slightly on the immediate future. If she was truly living, she didn’t know either. Even she could see that her monotonous cycle of school, read, eat, shower, sleep and repeat couldn’t be truly living. Her reclusive habits deemed her a hermit almost. Within the past two years she’d had the minimal amount of interaction with others beyond her family. It was rather dull, in all honesty. And it only worsened the melancholic mood that plagued her. If these prove to be some of the “best years of one’s life” then why the hell is she still here?

               She may have over exaggerated her sheer lack of friends. It was unfair to say that Darren was her only friend. Of course, he was the closest to her. He was the one that she’d been practically raised with. The person she shared baths with up until they were six. The person she always walked to and from school with. They’d been joined at the hip since the moment he was born five weeks after she was. So of course, it was traumatic after he’d left her. Like conjoined twins that are violently and improperly separated. She was damaged beyond repair.

                But he wasn’t her only friend. Another old friend had been holding her hand through it. Though he lived far, he always texted her. And skyped from time to time as well. He was a shy individual, but still, he was comfortable speaking to her.

                Back when visited her father every summer, she’d always play with him. He lived in the boarding house as well. That odd boarding house that was so much like home to her. She never questioned the quaint, beautiful mansion. It was something that she’d always known. So she never really thought of it as odd. Nor did she really think of the people who lived there as odd. They were family. A odd, semi-dysfunctional family of obvious misfits.

                She texted him after she’d calmed from her previous break down. She tried to seem a little more energetic. She tried to push the sadness and lethargy away. Her nimble little thumbs flitted across the keypad of her phone. Little plum-colored nails glistened underneath the warm glow of the passing street lamps.

_I’m almost there. We should be arriving within the next ten minutes._

                His reply was almost instant.

_Great. Can’t wait. Everyone is excited about meeting you…_

_But everyone's kinda sleep now. They'll wanna meet you in the morning..._

 

                A little nervous laugh escaped her lips. There, of course, have been new additions since her last visit. It has been a few years since she’d come all the way to California.

_Great… That is *great*._

_Not excited? Is that apprehension that those asterisks are implying?_

_No… Maybe, maybe not. I’m just afraid that I may not be entirely up to par with such a colorful bunch of individuals._

_What? You’re joking right? What are you even saying right now?_

_I’m a square. No. A fucking rhombus, Zex. Oblong and awkward as fuck. A little slanted. Barely standing on its own. I need a little help. Can you walk with me for a bit, hun? I’m a little too lame. Too uncool to hang with such cats._

_Shut the fuck up. That was the dumbest block of text I’ve ever read._

_You’ve read worse. You’ve been texting me since we ever got phones._

_I fail to find and falsities in that statement. You are, Xira, one weird child._

_You call me child as if you weren’t only two years older._

_Oh, but you *are*  a child. A whiny piss-baby with an eye for shiny rocks and a wicked talent for tagging private property. How has that been for you, by the way?_

_Oh, God. I didn’t tell you, huh?_

_What?_

_I got caught._

_OOOOOOOOOOO…. Shit…_

_Yeah… I’m so lucky my dad is such a smooth-talker ‘cause I wouldn’t have walked away from that one unscathed._

_What where you doing???_

_There was this old abandoned pool place, right? People trespass there all the time to hang out. I thought it would be perfect. But turns out that the bastards started patrolling around that area a week before._

_Did you finish it, at least?_

_Yep! And it was *worth it*_

_What did Xemnas say? What did he do?_

_…_

_Oh. The dots. That bad?_

_Yeah… He took all my paint. All of it. Gave it away. I can’t have any more spray paint for a while._

_Damn._

_Yeah. Oh! We’re driving up!_

_Great._

It was a place of grand scale, of course. But nothing too extravagant, not that any further extravagance was needed. It was an old manor, isolated by greenery all around as if it were an island in the pacific. The only way to find it was by a secluded, back country road that gave way to driveway that wrapped around the building and disappeared behind it, to the massive garage out back. She wondered how the hell no one really knew of the place. It was so big!

                She could see the lights from some windows, shining brightly in contrast to the dark, starless night. Staring. A warmly welcoming sight. Familiar.

 

 

 

               

                The day had started like any other summer day in the manor. Fast-paced and chaotic. But there was an additional exuberance to the air. As if something special was coming their way. However, Roxas couldn’t help but feel like he left out of the secret. No one informed him. So he didn’t quite get the memo.

                It was difficult to place exactly where things went wrong over the course of the morning. So many factors were thrown into the mix that could’ve resulted in Roxas’s eventual undoing.

                Perhaps, it was the very moment he woke, rolling over just to see vivid, sea foam eyes and unintentionally sinister smile beaming back at him. His first impulse urged him to scream and kick the man out of his bed. But by the looks of the smirk plastered on Axel’s face, it was up to Roxas to be the adult of the situation.

                “Some warning would’ve been nice.” Though Roxas was unamused, Axel didn’t even so much as falter under the gaze. He should’ve been used to it, to be completely honest. Axel was a repeated offender of such silly things that most of the time would encroach upon his personal space. Not that they were a hassle most of the time. But at times when one is so vulnerable, (as Roxas was then), he couldn’t help but feel a bit startled.

                “I wanted to surprise you.” He said, the same little smirk on his face. Roxas was unmoved, still holding him with a lethargic glare. “Okay. You’ve done that. You have my attention now.” He rose, propping himself up on tired arms and squinting at the pale, soft morning light. “There wasn’t anything I really had to say. I just got bored.” Roxas felt an arm encircle his waist, but grimaced at the touch. He didn’t shy away from it, however. He’d become accustomed to Axel’s touch. It was something welcomed, most of the time when Roxas wasn’t in one of his moods.

                And from somewhere far off, there were loud dins of pots and pans from the kitchen. And just a bit closer than that, someone was apparently climbing up or down the stairs and hitting every possible wall and obstacle on the way as if they were a blind Neanderthal. A series of dull thuds and thumps floated up the hall, annoying Roxas to no end. There was much talking. And music seemed to fill the halls as well.

                “What time is it? What the hell is going on?” Roxas tiredly asked, looking at the angry red numbers beside his bed that told the time. Nine forty-two, they read. So early, in his eyes. “What the hell is everyone doing so early in the morning? Oh my _God.”_ He angrily huffed, swinging his legs over the bed’s edge, out of Axel’s arm. “That’s what I asked Lexaeus. He said that –quote- ‘someone special is coming to live with us from now on’ – unquote. But maybe it would’ve been wise to maybe ask someone a bit more talkative.”

                “Who’s coming to live with us? Here? In the house?” Axel nodded. “Yep. I don’t know who, however. All I know is that Xemnas is leaving to meet whoever it is at the airport.” Roxas was only slightly curious about the sudden info. Overall, however, he was impartial as of then. He forced himself to his feet to get dressed. He closed in on his closet, taking a hanging shirt into his hands absently. He couldn’t help swiveling on his feet to address Axel. “Why am I just now knowing about this?” Axel shrugged, face buried into the fluffy comforter.

                His room door swung open with not even the slightest of warning. Roxas nearly jumped out of his flesh. On the other hand, Axel merely shot a look at Xigbar, who was the least bit phased by the oddness of Roxas’s partial nudity and Axel’s presence in his bed. It wouldn’t have been the first time that he intruded so abrasively. It was starting to get to the extent that made Roxas feel as if he did so on purpose. He _had_ to screwing with them most of the time, for he’d only choose to rear his graying head only when he and Axel decided to get more _intimate._ He was an evil mastermind, he had to be.

                “Well, if you two aren’t doing anything important, could you two help me with something? My damn arms are about to fall off.”

                “What are you doing out there, anyway?” Roxas asked.

                “I’m moving some furniture up into the room next door. It just came in this morning. So, if you’re not doing anything, it would be _lovely_ if you could help this poor old bastard out.”

                Axel groaned into the comforter before making a move to stand. Xigbar disappeared down the hall once more, leaving Roxas to freely wonder about the mystery that was Xigbar’s age. How old was that guy anyway? The graying streaks in his dark hair declared one thing. But his face, somewhat youthful, said another. He couldn’t be over forty, yet who knew? It was another thing he had yet to learn. He still had a long way to go, with him still being a newbie in the house and all.

                Then it hit him. The room beside his. This “new addition” would be his neighbor.

                There was a sudden shred of curiosity that urged him onwards. It told him to go ahead and take a peek at the room. The room that had been shut away ever since his moving in. It wouldn’t take much to just take a little look.

                So he did. He left his room and took a peek into the neighboring room, almost as if he were peeking into the personality of the person who’d be living there from this day on.

                It was obvious that it _had_ to be a teenager. A teenager with colorful tastes and a fancy for gore. Posters of bloodied dragons ripping damsels limb from limb littered the wall. Were they for a band, movie or game? He didn’t know. But upon closer inspection, he realized that they were actually hand drawn. These were done by masterful hands. Damn, that was talent. He hated to say it but there was more talent packed into these bloody masterpieces than he’d seen in Namine’s tame little paintings. It was all so… _Hardcore._

                It was a girl. Surreally, there was a cute blue comforter, covered in blue bubbles and girlish charm. Blue curtains and blue… Christmas lights? Strange. But that was all he could really tell about this new person by just looking at this odd, new room. And now, he’d been instilled with a brand new curiosity that would follow him for the rest of the day.

                He left to go retrieve a bundle of clothes from his room and headed down the hall for a shower. Steam wafted from underneath the door, announcing that it was already in use. A growl escaped him as he registered the singing voice coming from within, sweetly hitting high notes and filling the hall.

                “Demyx…” He growled as he returned to his room.

 

 

                His day didn’t really start until noon, since his shower had been delayed for nearly an hour and a half. So naturally, his stomach felt as if it were going to collapse in on itself if he didn’t eat soon. His mind had zeroed in on the fridge. He was making a bee line for that one spot. His hopes were high. The goal was in sight. So when he opened the door and saw that the fridge was practically empty, the world seemed to fall to ruin around him.

                “That’s right,” Vexen said somewhere behind him. “No one’s really been shopping yet. Everyone’s on their own until this evening.” Roxas sighed and fought the melodramatic urge to fall to his knees and bang his head on the fridge door. But he couldn’t waste any time. He was starving. He had no choice but to drive out into the city and buy something to eat.

                He sighed. “I’ll just go pick something up to eat. No biggie.” He turned to retrieve his car keys from his room, but was immediately stopped.

                “Hey! If you’re doing that, can you grab me something, too?” Axel had overheard the exchange. He poked his head into the kitchen with that same smirk plastered on his face. Roxas nodded. “Sure. I’ll do that. What do you want?” He asked even though Axel always wanted the same damn thing. As long as it was a burger, it was fine. His usual, he said. And Roxas nodded.

                Then Xigbar entered the kitchen, and made his own request. Okay, Roxas agreed. Not a big deal. He took Xigbar’s money and order. He’d leave as soon as he found his keys.

                When he descended the stairs, Luxord and Marluxia were waiting on him. And soon, Roxas had become errand boy for the day.

 

 

                He’d ended up taking orders for practically everyone in the house. He’d had to give in eventually and just write everything down. But on the brighter side, at least he didn’t have to go alone. Xion agreed to tag along, to help him out and keep him company during the drive. She had nothing else to do, she said.  So why not?

                “You seem a little off today. Are you okay, Roxas?” She asked him. He gave a little humorless laugh. “This whole day has been a little ‘off’ if you ask me.” She laughed at his unenthusiastic attitude about the overall atmosphere of the house. Everyone was quite excited, though no one was ready to admit it yet. Yet Roxas managed to be unmoved.

                “You’re just being grumpy for no reason.” She added. “That’s how you get wrinkles, you know…”

                “Geez, Xion. Thanks. I’m glad to know that you’re so concerned about my appearance. Not my internal, mental well-being. No, just my face. It doesn’t matter that I could be potentially stressed-out about something. As long as I keep my pretty face and supple body intact, it’s all _good.”_

                “You’re so melodramatic, Roxas.” She laughed.

                “Yes. I’m melodramatic. _I’m melodramatic.”_ He emphasized every syllable with a beat of his chest. “I think I deserve a right to be a little melodramatic whenever I’m being constantly screwed up the ass by those jerks.” Xion bent her head down, trying to stifle the laughter that bubbled in her chest.

                “What?” He asked, hands gripping the wheel as he drove down the back country road. At this point, he felt as if the stench of greasy French fries and synthetic hamburger meat had permanently sunk into his clothes.

                “I thought you liked being screwed in the ass.” She couldn’t even stop the chortling before the sentence left her lips. Roxas stared at her for a moment. “Oh- _Oh my God._ Not you, Xion. Anyone but you. I can take that snarky bull from Axel. But not you.” She laughed so hard that she felt as if her sides would split. Xion usually was the kind and considerate one. The one who would give kind words of encouragement. But even she had her moments sometimes. “You have to admit, you set yourself up for that one.”

                He unlocked the doors. “Get out.” She laughed even more.

                “No.” She started after gathering her wits. “Tell me what’s bothering you. What’s got you in such a bad mood? It can’t be just the food run that has you so riled.”

                “You know what has me in a bad mood. It’s the only thing that ever puts me in a bad mood. Well… Person, really.”

                “Van?”

                “Yes, Van. Always Van.”

                Xion sighed. Recently, there’d been nothing but drama within their circle of friends. All centered around the certain self-destructive tendencies of one in particular. And it was a slow, painful thing to watch, for no one really knew what to say to him. No one could comfort him or set him straight. He’d already dropped out of school. It was almost as if he were too far gone. They’d tried to reason. To convince him to come back. But he’d completely shut them all out. He was somewhere out in the woods, living in his uncle’s old cabin and ignoring the world around him.

                “I just wish he’d come to his senses and come back…” Roxas said. “Ventus is so worried about him.”

                “We’re all worried about him. I haven’t heard from him for two weeks… He used to tell me everything.” She said. “He’s changed so much since… Well, you know.”

                “If only he’d let us help him. He’s so fucking dramatic. It’s _not_ the end of the world.”

                “It’s the end of _his,_ Roxas. You have to understand how much it’s changed things for him. Out of all of us, he has it the worst…”

 

 

 

                _A girl, dancing madly in the sunlight. Her little feet were muddied with coarse, wet sand and the salty waters of the sea.  With wild abandon, she danced and smiled and laughed like a little minx. Her grin was impish, her dimples were perfection. There was love in her eyes and the wonders of the world and the next behind them. Her hips moved like water, rolling like the waves behind her. She danced with the sun to her back, as if he were more important to her. She held out a hand, and beckoned for him to come along with a voice that he couldn’t quite hear._

That was the image that popped up when he saw those chocolate brown eyes staring back at him. He knew that she couldn’t see him. It was too dark, and the trees hid him. She stared through him. Over him. But not at him. She turned towards the large manor with suitcase in tow and trudged up the steps.

                Why was it that she seemed so clean, yet her eyes held a look that said that she’d seen centuries go by? A girl like her shouldn’t have a care in the world. Free of sadness. Free of vices. Of course, she wouldn’t have any vices. She probably didn’t curse. Or drink. Or smoke. She probably hadn’t done a bad thing in her whole life. He didn’t deserve to even imagine what it’d be like being with her. He didn’t deserve anything.

                His chest seemed to constrict around his heart when he saw her. He cursed under his breath. And suddenly, scenes and images of the girl flitted through his brain. Scenes of her laughing, squinting underneath the harsh summer rays. Her crying, body convulsing with sobs. Her panting underneath him, shoulders trembling as if she were cold. Her sleeping, her round face peaceful in the light of the full moon. Scenes of them as they joked and argued and made love and smoked together all rushed like a torrent through his already frazzled mind.

                God was calling. And he said that Vanitas will soon be having his well-deserved break. He fought the smirk that threatened to cross his face, torn between absolute giddiness and the sheer terror of the situation. There she was! _His_ mate. But then again, his mate was the daughter of _that guy._ Okay, so he’d have to work for her. _Hard._ But that was no big deal. When did he not have to work for something? Things didn’t just fall into his lap, like they did for his friends. He must’ve done something awful in his past life, because things were never easy for him.

                Everything within his brain went silent when she began to speak. She yelled to her father, who was still dealing with another suitcase in the car’s trunk. “And I just go in…?” She asked unsurely. And her voice was perfect. It sounded like how she looked. Sweet, yet a little mature. “Yes. Are you nervous?” Her father replied. She didn’t deny anything. “A little…” She said. But yet, she reached out for the doorknob. Suitcases. She was moving in…

                Since when did Xemnas have a daughter, though? He shrugged to himself and dismissed the question. It wasn’t important.

                He watched her as she turned the knob to enter the house, leaving his sight. His chest returned to its normal size. His heart no longer throbbed. The knot in his stomach became undone. And there was a new resolve in his mind. He had to talk to her.

 

 

 

                Zexion was right when he said things had gotten a little crazy. But large families usually were a little insane. She was grateful that she wore sneakers that day, rather than sandals or whatever else. She would’ve gotten a foot-full of broken porcelain. She snickered a bit to herself, murmuring “oh shit, someone’s in deep trouble~…” She rolled her suitcase right into the grand foyer, taking in the familiar scene as something of a nostalgic feeling crept into her heart. She was home again.

                At the foot of the grand staircase, her dresser, the one her mother sent on a u-haul five days ago, leaned on broken legs. She didn’t mind it too much. Furniture wasn’t something she really concerned about. She didn’t get attached, since she wasn’t the one who bought it. Accidents happen, she told herself. However, would her father be as forgiving? Something told her “absolutely not.”

                “Xira?” A familiar voice rang with clarity behind her. Free of the dulled quality of skype and the telephone. She turned, seeing her childhood friend in person for the first time in years. She smiled. He beamed, the most extreme resemblance of a smile she’d ever seen on him. Her suitcase was left to fall to the ground with a thud as she rushed to him, throwing her arms around him. Their hug was clumsy, like everything about the two teens. They swayed side to side, squeezing the life out of each other as friends did.

                “I keep forgetting that you are so short.” He said to her. “And you aren’t?” She quipped. “I’m still taller than you.” She laughed. “But still short, like the little bitch you are.” He let her go, holding the girl by her shoulders. “Now that’s the Xira I know and love. The short smartass that always has her two cents to share.” He affectionately tapped her dainty nose as he said it. She shook the finger away before nodding to the mess behind her. “What the hell happened in here? Dad is gonna flip when he sees this.” He threw his hands up. “Hey, I’m not a part of this. I came downstairs and found it like this.” He looked at the dresser as well. “That is your dresser, isn’t it?” She nodded. He snorted. “Damn. They can’t even do that right.” He shook his head.

                “Actually, I broke it a long time ago. I was meaning to tell someone.”

                “How the hell did you break a dresser?” He asked.

                “You’re not supposed to sit on them. I learned that the hard way.”

                He snorted.

                “So when do I meet everyone? I’m just dying to know some new faces.” There was a little sarcasm in her voice. But she was lighthearted about it, as usual. But he knew that Xira’s heart was anything but light.

                He hugged her, just on impulse. A tight, warm hug. And she, a little confused by the suddenness of the gesture, awkwardly patted him. “Zexion?” she asked. “This is a little odd, don’t ya think?” He shook his head. “No… I didn’t give you your hug yet.” He admitted. And suddenly, she somewhat sensed the intent behind it.

                She smiled and relaxed into his arms.

               

 

                She hadn’t realized that in actuality, it was at least two in the morning. Most of the residents were either asleep, or out doing something or other. Either way, the best course of action was for her to either go to sleep and wait to meet everyone in the morning, or just hang with Zexion until she crashed. She chose to do the latter. And after they were all moved in, and all her bags moved into her new room, and the shattered porcelain cleaned up, the two teens quickly retreated upstairs to her room, leaving her poor father to ponder just how the hell a little girl like her managed to break a dresser in the first place.

                Even though it had been several years since they’d last seen each other, they seemed to almost fall into a natural rhythm. After much oogling and appreciation for her new, cozy little lair, the two of them plopped into what would be their normal spots from then on. Xira was on her bed, and Zexion took his place at her desk, in the big comfy chair. They both sat and there was a sigh of exuberance as they looked at each other. It was as if they said, “I can’t believe we are actually here, together again.”

                “So!” She snapped into her usual self, throwing herself onto the comforter of the bed and giving him most of her attention. “Now that I’m here, is there anything I need to know? What’s it like here?”

                Zexion wore an ominous little smirk before answering.

                “You’ll never get bored here. I promise.”

 

 

                They talked all night about anything and everything. About the past and the present but certainly not the future. About old boyfriends that never really existed and the need to get very, very high soon and how she’d never done so before. They talked about love and music and pets and pansexuality and graffiti. They even talked about the residents of the house, both the old and the new. And they fell into their old rhythm.

                “Everyone’s the same, pretty much. Xigbar is still as immature as a high school kid. Vexen’s still creepy and whiny as ever. Lexaeus still doesn’t speak a whole lot. Xaldin is… Xaldin…” He told her. “They all try to be all cool about it, but I can tell. They’re really looking forward to seeing you again.” She smiled. “Awww. How sweet.” The bed squeaked as she threw herself back onto it. “I’m so glad to be really _home_ again. Away from that godforsaken town…” She perked up, gaining an interesting thought. “You should tell me about the new people. What are they like?” She asked curiously.

                “Well…”

 

 

                She didn’t get much sleep that night. The three hours between her finally laying down and her giving up was nothing but a stretch of relentless tossing and turning in her bed. Zexion had fallen asleep in a little nest he’d made beside her bed, which was too adorable for words. He didn’t really feel like going back to his room, he said. He would be more comfortable there. So he stayed, softly snoring away as her mind raced with thought after self-destructive thought. She wished she could sleep like him. But lately, that had become a privilege she had not earned.

                She moseyed down the steps of the manor, not minding the eerie silence and the dim lights of the two lamps that had been left on in consideration for night roamers like her. She loved the house, but she had to admit that it could be creepy at times. She was thankful that she had gotten over her fear of the dark, or this would’ve been unbearable for her.

                She remembered all those years, running up and down the same halls as a little girl, always with Zexion on her heels. She remembered playing with Xigbar, who was almost like a weird uncle to her, but weird in a good way. She remembered Lexaeus and his wonderful cooking, and everything else about the manor and her wonderful childhood.

                Maybe she’d go out the back for a bit, she thought. Go enjoy the moonlight. Maybe that would make her tired. She needed sleep.

                She didn’t really bother with shoes, though she should’ve. There was a stone pathway that lead from the back kitchen door. It lead just to the wood’s edge. The stone was warm under her feet. The summer air, humid and hot, clung to her and made her skin all sticky. She could almost feel her hair frizz out in that air. But she didn’t let it bother her. The frogs sang their rowdy song. The air was stale and unmoving. The moon shone brightly above her.

                And she heard it. She heard something moving over in the bushes, not too far from where she stood.

                She approached the trees, a little bounce in her step and a smile on her lips. The memories were sweet. She remembered this pathway and how it lead to a dirt road that wound through the trees. How it all lead to a little brook that babbled away incessantly, whispering its secrets to no one in particular.

                More rustling. And golden eyes that shone like the full moon in September.

                _Niece…_ She smiled upon hearing the voice that wasn’t really a voice at all. She maintained distance, standing before the behemoth of a creature before her, resting in the trees.

                “Hey, Uncle. How have you been?” Her voice was soft. Softer than the faded night song around them. She looked radiant, like her mother. A smile like the sun. A luminescence like the stars. “Still a wolf, I see.” She laughed. “Don’t you get tired of always being so hairy? And big…?” _Never,_ he told her.  She reached out towards him and he allowed her to pet him under his muzzle. _What have you been getting up to?_

She smiled. “Guess who just moved in for good?” And before he could even process her question, she pointed to herself with proud thumbs. “I’m here to stay! So I can bother you and everyone else as often as I please.” There was a little joking sigh from the wolf. _The princess finally gets her little kingdom._ He said, knowing full and well that the girl would go wild on the streets of Radiant Garden. This place was more of her home than any other place on earth. It was where her best memories played out. Her heart was tied to it. She smiled. “Finally!”

                _Then there is something that you should know before you get settled._ He started. She could almost tell what he was about to go on about, but didn’t jump to conclusions. His tone had gone even more grave than usual. This was the tone that made her shut up and listen. Always. Her uncle had always been her advice giver, when her father wasn’t fit for her more delicate issues. She couldn’t tell Xemnas about her worries in fear of worrying him. She couldn’t tell him about her dark thoughts and what she felt and regretted. She couldn’t tell Zexion either. So her uncle was the best bet. He was great at listening.

                He sat back on his haunches. _Your father… You know that he plans on giving you ‘the option’ sooner or later. Maybe sooner, given that you’ll be eighteen soon._ She sighs. That impeding truth was close and she knew it. She didn’t really want to think about it. But she had to. It was a decision she’d have to make soon. “I know….” She gave a little laugh. “It’s really funny. They don’t know that I know all about them and what they are. They all will probably think that I’m just his cute human daughter, lost in a world that I know nothing about…” His gaze lingered on her. _Have you thought about what you’ll choose?_ She shook her head. “I don’t know… I know that I won’t stay human… I don’t have the right to do that to my dad… And Zexion…”

                _You own no one anything…_ She laughed at this. “I figured you say that. But I won’t be able to truly think that. I’m not staying human… I’m going to change… Into what is the real problem…” He narrowed his eyes. _What do you mean? You’ll be like your father._ She shook her head. “I don’t know about that, Uncle. I don’t think I’d like being like them… It seems to be more of a burden. But if I’m like you-.”

                _Absolutely not…_

She had no doubt in her mind that he’d resist her idea. Her wish to be more like him, rather than the frightening being that her father was. Her uncle… Those like him had the potential to do good. They were closer to the forest. Protectors. And they didn’t rely on humans for survival. They ate just as humans did (maybe a bit more). They enjoyed the sunlight and could change their natures at will. That’s what she wanted. She could almost see it, running alongside her uncle. She’d known her decision from the start. It was just now that she voiced it.

                “It was a thought…” She tried to smooth over the awkwardness of the situation. To ease the tension building within her uncle. _A dangerous, childish thought. Don’t consider such a thing. Do not do it, Xira._

                She didn’t make any promises. There was a pregnant pause before she began to speak again.

                “Fine… I’ll drop it… For now… Only if you tell me something.” He was silent, unsure of this new mood of hers. He didn’t deny or accept. He merely entertained her morbid little disposition.

                “Mom says that people have been asking… For me. Is that true? You know dad would never tell me if something like that happened. But I have the right to know.” And he had to admit that she did. Xemnas would probably hole his niece in that manor all summer, never letting her out unless accompanied. Not without good reason, however. But the girl deserved to know why she’d become a prisoner in her own home.

                _Yes. Word has gotten out about you coming home. People know that he’ll be turning you soon. Some have had the audacity to come here personally and ask him for your hand._ He gave a little snort. _Medieval, isn’t it? Not you, but your father._

“I wish I could agree and say that it was Medieval. But people still do stuff like that today.”

                He scoffed.

”What did he say?” She asked.

                _I happened to be close by… And by what I heard, it’s safe to say that he personally kicked someone’s ass for the first time in years. He was furious._

                She laughed as dryly as the air of a Texan flea market. “That’s wonderful. It still doesn’t make me feel any better about the situation.” It was just another problem to add to the other ninety-eight. Ninety-nine problems and she was so done with everything. Okay. Now she was tired. She needed some sleep.

                But still, who knew when her uncle would drop by again. She resolved to stay up and enjoy his brief visit while it lasted. They talked and talked for what seemed like hours.

                _You haven’t been sleeping…_

“Nope. The Sandman has a sick sense of humor. Didn’t you know?”

                _You need to get some rest._

“Sleep is for the dead, rich, and toddlers.”

                _You’re acting like a toddler and your father is rich enough to own islands._

 “You know, Uncle. No one can ever quite kill my vibe like how you do.”

                _Go get some sleep, Xira-Jura._

She groaned in mock annoyance. “Fine. But only because I was already getting tired anyway. Goodnight, Uncle.” She said, her little hand pressing onto the side of his muzzle. “Promise me you’ll come by every now and then, okay? Don’t just disappear on me.” He shut his eyes, leaning into her hand as if making no promises, though God knew he wanted to. “Fine… I know that’s a lot to ask. Can you at least be there when I finally graduate? This’ll be my last year, you know? So be back for May!” It was then that he nodded. _I promise you. Do well…_

“I will.”

                She watched as the massive creature turned and retreated into the forest. He could never stay too long. His scent would linger. Her father would notice. Her poor uncle, she thought. Even in this type of society, others were left behind.


End file.
